


ache

by ObscureReference



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Appendicitis, Domestic, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, M/M, Nausea, Pain, Sickfic, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 20:03:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18038015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureReference/pseuds/ObscureReference
Summary: Xander was entirely engrossed in his computer screen by this point. Inigo lingered in the doorway a moment longer, waiting to see if there was anything more he could say or do for Xander. When it became clear there wasn’t, he turned away and tiptoed back into the kitchen.He was certain Xander wouldn’t have noticed anyway, but he double checked to make sure he was alone before leaning his back against the counter and pressing his hand against his stomach. He frowned at the small knot of pain that sat just behind his belly button.The stomachache was more of an annoyance than a real problem. It certainly made Inigo less inclined to eat dinner. But if he didn’t cook, Xander certainly wouldn’t, and at least one of them had to eat tonight. Preferably the one of them with the most weight on their shoulders at the moment.





	ache

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely check out the tags for this one! It's a seriously (but not too seriously) sick fic involving hospitals and mentioned surgery! So be warned if that bothers you in any way!
> 
> I gotta do one of these for Severa sometime now. I hurt Owain and now Inigo so often. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“I doubt there’s much more you could do to make that slideshow any more comprehensive than it already is,” Inigo said, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed and smiling good-naturedly. He kept his voice purposely light in an attempt to ease some of the tension from Xander’s shoulders.

Xander sighed. He took off his reading glasses and set them aside, looking up from the papers and laptop spread out across his desk.

“You’re probably right,” Xander said without much energy. He tapped his finger on one of the keys of his computer without pressing down. “Be that as it may—”

“You can relax for a while,” Inigo suggested. “You must know that presentation back to front already.”

 _Inigo_ certainly did, and it wasn’t even his project. Uncharacteristically anxious, Xander had consulted him on ever minor change of font, on every bit of altered wording. They’d sat together for hours, pouring over every sentence with a fine-toothed comb. Most of the changes had seemed like splitting hairs to Inigo, but he’d done his best to help anyway. Even so, Xander had continued to obsess over his work. As the deadline loomed ever closer, the shadows under Xander’s eyes had darkened.

Not that Inigo blamed him. Xander was in a rather precarious position now, what with Garon having stepped down out of the blue and Xander having been unanimously voted to take his place as head of the company. Xander more than anyone wanted to prove that he hadn’t simply inherited the position from his father. Anyone with half a brain knew that Xander had more than earned his place, Inigo included. Still, the worry still lingered. Hence Xander’s concern.

That wasn’t all, though. It was a secret to all but Xander’s family and Inigo, but there was change on the horizon.

Garon had been an infamous leader, but not always a justified one. Not all of his decisions had served the company or his workers as well as Garon had pretended they did. As one of the masses, Xander had simply gone along with his father’s policies, too afraid of the backlash to speak out. Now that the chance for reform was upon them, Xander planned on seizing it.

Inigo was proud of him.

But even though Inigo had no doubt Xander’s policies would only serve as a shift towards the better, there were always those who fought against change. So Xander had obsessed night after sleepless night to craft an iron argument against any and all questions that might be raised regarding his new policies.

By this point, Inigo was pretty sure Xander had all his bases covered. Even Leo and Camilla had said so. Despite his sibling’s and Inigo’s reassurances, however, Xander had only gotten tenser and quieter as the date of the meeting drew closer. He double, triple, quadruple checked his presentation every evening. Even now, Inigo knew it was moot point to draw Xander out of the office tonight, the night before his presentation. It was almost certainly a doomed endeavor.

Still, he had to try.

“I’m making dinner,” Inigo said, trying to appeal to Xander’s baser instincts. “I’ll be done in a few. We could sit down, watch some TV, unwind a little…”

He trailed off hopefully, letting the implications stand.

It wasn’t a surprise when Xander shook his head, but it was still a disappointment.

“Thank you,” Xander said. He was already looking down at his laptop again. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll make myself a plate later. Feel free to eat without me.”

“I can bring you a plate,” Inigo pressed.

“It’s really alright.”

Xander was entirely engrossed in his computer screen by this point. Inigo lingered in the doorway a moment longer, waiting to see if there was anything more he could say or do for Xander. When it became clear there wasn’t, he turned away and tiptoed back into the kitchen.

He was certain Xander wouldn’t have noticed anyway, but he double checked to make sure he was alone before leaning his back against the counter and pressing his hand against his stomach. He frowned at the small knot of pain that sat just behind his belly button.

The stomachache was more of an annoyance than a real problem. It certainly made Inigo less inclined to eat dinner. But if he didn’t cook, Xander certainly wouldn’t, and at least one of them had to eat tonight. Preferably the one of them with the most weight on their shoulders at the moment.

So he ignored the dull pain in his stomach and continued to make dinner. Spaghetti wasn’t a particularly difficult dish, nor a very time consuming one, but Inigo pretended otherwise for the sake of distracting himself. Pretending he had to stand there to keep the pot from boiling over kept Inigo from poking his head in to check on Xander every five minutes, at least. Inigo played on his phone while the wonders of modern convenience did most of the work.

When the food was done, he tucked his phone back into his pocket. He turned the heat of the stove to low to keep the food warm and pulled the garlic bread from the oven. Fixing a plate took only a minute.

He knocked on the open office door to announce his presence. “I brought dinner!”

Xander frowned as he looked up, the wrinkles between his eyebrows more pronounced than usual. He was wearing his reading glasses again.

“I told you that was alright,” Xander said as Inigo entered the office and rounded the desk.

“I know, but if left up to your own devices, I’m pretty sure you’d forget to eat,” Inigo said brightly. He kissed the top of Xander’s head as he set the plate by Xander’s elbow.

The tightness around Xander’s eyes softened ever so slightly.

“Thank you.” Xander nodded. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course!”

He was still trying to lift some of Xander’s spirits via cheerful osmosis. He stepped back and smiled at his boyfriend. An air of stress still hung over both their heads. Inigo pretended not to notice.

“Anything else I can help you with?” he asked. “I have it on good authority that I provide one hell of a backrub when the occasion arises.”

He winked for good measure, but Xander shook his head. “No, thank you, but I appreciate the offer. Thank you for making dinner. I’ll make something tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Inigo said. They both knew Xander had busier evenings more often than Inigo did. It was why Xander made breakfast more often. “Do you need anything else? Any new changes you want to talk over?”

He leaned behind Xander’s chair to catch sight of the slideshow on the computer screen, but it looked unchanged from the last time Inigo had seen it. Xander shook his head again, eyes drawn back to the crisp words on the screen.

“That’s alright. I’m simply thinking right now. Thank you.”

“Are you sure?” Inigo asked. “If that’s the case, you can still take a break for a bit. Taking a step back might help you look at your computer with fresh eyes later.”

“That’s alright,” Xander said. “Perhaps later.”

“You could—”

“I think I’d just like to review my speech by myself for a while,” Xander said stiffly. He kept his tone even, but he was obviously a bit fed up with Inigo’s barrage of well-meaning suggestions. “But thank you again. I’ll keep this in mind for later.”

Feeling somewhat abashed, Inigo flushed. He couldn’t tell if the slight heat to his face was some sort of strange embarrassment or an oncoming fever. Whatever the reason, he stepped back from the desk.

“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t meant to overwhelm.”

Xander hesitated like he was going to say something else—perhaps an apology—but in the end he just nodded. His mouth was tight. He glanced towards his computer screen. Inigo didn’t take it personally.

He nodded back. “Good luck then.”

Xander hadn’t asked him to, but Inigo gently closed the door behind him on the way out.

Without anything better to do, he went back to the kitchen and eyed the remainder of the dinner still sitting on the stove. Inigo’s stomach churned in response. His face still felt a little too warm.

He pressed his hand against his stomach and winced. Unsurprisingly, the added pressure didn’t help. As it was, he simply didn’t feel like eating. Laying down for a nap seemed much more tempting than washing the dishes.

But if he left them now, he’d simply have more to do later. With that in mind, Inigo turned off the stove and pulled out the tupperware. If he woke up hungry in the middle of the night, at least he’d have something to snack on later.

After dinner was stored in the fridge, he looked at the remaining dirty pots sitting on the stove. It wasn’t much of a mess, truly; Inigo could have easy scrubbed the remaining sauce from the pots in a few easy swipes of a sponge. But the cramping in his stomach had become more than a little uncomfortable, so Inigo tossed the dirty dishes into the sink for later. Then he wandered into the living room.

He could have gone into the bedroom and laid across the bed instead. But the couch was closer and more readily available to curl up in, so Inigo flopped along the length of the couch instead.

Inigo flipped through the TV channels until he found something moderately interesting to watch. Then he let the remote fall to the floor. Laying on his side, he wrapped one arm loosely around his middle and pulled his legs close to conserve warmth. There were blankets stacked in the clear cabinet under the TV, but suffering through the chill of the air conditioning was more appealing than getting up again.

Normally Inigo would have gone to Xander for comfort and a backrub when he felt unwell, but that wasn’t much of an option this time. Xander had enough on his plate without Inigo complaining to him of a stomachache like a child. It would fix itself soon enough.

His stomach cramps were probably because of the yogurt he had eaten that afternoon anyway. That expiration date had been questionable at best. He’d brought this on himself.

With all of this in mind, Inigo tried his best to get comfortable. It wasn’t very late in the evening, but it was late enough. The day had been long, and Inigo felt under the weather. He didn’t fight the heaviness of his eyelids, nor the way the low volume of the television began to fade into simply background noise.

When he woke up again, Inigo thought, he’d feel better and could get a head start on the next day. Xander would be less unhappy, and the presentation would be behind them by afternoon. Sleep was a good plan.

Inigo dozed.

He couldn’t say how long had passed before he drifted back to the realm of consciousness. When he realized he was awake, he opened his eyes a sliver and saw it was still dark outside. The light from the television blurred in Inigo’s vision. The volume was so low it was incoherent.

His stomach throbbed painfully—more painfully than it had before. Inigo grimaced, shutting his eyes again. He couldn’t curl up any more without risking falling off the couch, but he very much wanted to.

Goosebumps broke out along his bare arms. The house was still cool.

There was a shuffle of movement somewhere behind the couch. Inigo barely registered it. He was still more asleep than awake.

Footsteps rounded the couch. Silence suddenly replaced the low hum where the TV had been.

That woke Inigo up a bit more.

He laid there with his eyes closed, carefully still. It took a moment for his tired brain to register the sounds of Xander shuffling through the living room and grabbing a blanket from under the television. The sound of the cabinet opening was unmistakable.

Inigo didn’t open his eyes even as he felt Xander lay the blanket over him. It was a welcome relief from the chill.

Xander had left the office without Inigo’s prodding. Obviously it was later than he had first thought.

Currently Inigo’s stomach hurt a good bit more than any of the stomachaches he was used to. Part of him wanted to ask Xander to grab a glass of water and some medicine from the bathroom. The other part was much more tired and found falling asleep a much more appealing concept. If Inigo opened his eyes again, it’d be difficult to fall back asleep later, medicine or no. Saying nothing was the easier option.

Besides, he didn’t want Xander to hover unnecessarily. It was better they both got some rest, especially if Inigo was coming down with the flu or something.

He felt Xander’s fingers graze his forehead and brush back some of his hair. Inigo wanted to lean into the warm touch, but his limbs were too heavy with sleep.

After a moment, Xander pulled back. His footsteps faded in the direction of the bedroom.

Inigo carefully let his mind go blank. With the comfortable weight of the blanket on top of him, he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 

Inigo jolted awake with a gasp.

There were no lingering cobwebs on his brain this time. There was no question as to what was happening. The pain in Inigo’s stomach had migrated from his bellybutton to someplace lower, a little off-center. The pain had moved, but it didn’t hurt any less.

On the contrary—it felt as though somebody had stabbed Inigo in the stomach and was now twisting the knife.

The moment Inigo became aware of how much he truly _hurt_ , tears welled up in his eyes.

 _Shit_ , he thought. His brain went nearly white with static from the pain.

Something was definitely wrong.

He blinked the wetness in his eyes away and looked up.

It was still some unholy hour of the morning. Through the window, Inigo could see that the streets outside were still dark. Inigo could have been asleep for hours or for minutes. It didn’t matter. All he could focus on was the _pain_.

He laid there on the couch, wishing, hoping, _willing_ the hurt to fade.

It didn’t.

“Fuck,” Inigo tried to say. All that came out was a whimper instead.

Xander was probably sleep in the bedroom, mere feet away from where Inigo lay. There was no way Inigo could manage getting off the couch by himself to shake Xander awake, however, and that revelation nearly made Inigo burst into tears entirely.

Then he remembered the phone in his pocket.

With shaking hands, he fumbled for his phone and unlocked it without checking the time. He opened his recent call list. Xander’s number was at the top.

Just before Inigo pressed the call button, a thought struck him. He froze. A fresh wave of stabbing pain rolled through him, and he stifled another whimper, his hand flopping onto the couch next to the phone.

Because if he called Xander, then Xander would definitely wake up to help Inigo. He would do whatever Inigo needed of him, no questions asked. They would go to the hospital. Xander would stay by his side.

But Xander had his very important meeting in—what, hours? Less than that? Xander needed to be there. He couldn’t miss it. He had to impress the board, had to do what he had been preparing for the past two weeks to do.

Xander had been so stressed as of late. Inigo couldn’t be responsible for messing that up. It was too important.

Similarly, though, Inigo couldn’t just lay on the couch in pain until morning. For one thing, he didn’t think he could bear it. For another, if Inigo was still on the couch when the sun rose, Xander would see him and know something was wrong immediately. Then it wouldn’t matter whether Inigo called him right now or not. The day would still be ruined.

Inigo swallowed a shaking breath. Even the slightest movement sent him reeling.

He squinted at the dimming light of his phone screen. There was another name on the recent calls list, just under Xander’s.

They weren’t very close. They weren’t the best of friends. But Inigo thought they got on well enough, and he had always trusted them. He hit the call button without thinking.

Corrin answered on the fifth ring, just as Inigo was beginning to give up hope. Their voice was thick with sleep.

 _“…Inigo?”_ Corrin asked after a moment. Inigo realized he hadn’t said anything. _“Are you alright?”_

It was a struggle to speak and an even bigger one to keep his voice steady. He managed the first part. The second, not so much.

“H-hey.” Inigo swallowed. He shut his eyes and tried to keep his voice low so Xander wouldn’t wake up. “Could you do me a big favor?”

Muffled movement came from the other end of the line. Inigo imagine Corrin sitting up in bed, blinking sleep out of their eyes.

 _“What is it?”_ They sounded more awake now.

“Could you…” Inigo clenched his teeth. Oh, he _hurt_. “Could you drive over here and take me to the ER?”

_“What?”_

Now Corrin was definitely awake. Inigo could hear them shooting out of bed, scrambling around their house. He bit his lip from both guilt and pain.

_“Are you alright? Is Xander there? Did something—”_

“It’s okay,” Inigo whispered. It wasn’t really, but he’d say anything to keep Corrin from putting everyone on high alert at this awful hour. Especially Xander. “Please, don’t—don’t make a fuss.”

 _“I’m coming over.”_ Inigo wasn’t sure if Corrin had heard a word he’d said. _“Why can’t Xander take you? Do you need an ambulance?”_

“No ambulance,” Inigo said, slightly louder.

Ambulances were loud. They had flashing lights and sirens. There was no way Xander would sleep through that. Besides, Inigo didn’t think he was that bad off.

 _Yet_ , his brain unhelpfully supplied.

He didn’t really believe it either.

_“Inigo—”_

“Please,” he said again. Was Corrin in the car? He thought he’d heard the slam of the door on the phone, but that could have been outside. “Please, I’ll explain when I get here. Just—just don’t wake Xander up, okay? I’ll go out to the curb. Please be quiet about it.”

The pause before Corrin answered was one of the most agonizing of Inigo’s life, for more reasons than one.

 _“Okay,”_ Corrin eventually said. Inigo could have cried tears of relief. He could have cried in general. _“Okay, I’m coming as fast as I can. Just be outside when I get there.”_

“I will,” Inigo swore. The knife in his stomach twisted again. “Thank you. I’m so sorry to wake you up like this.”

 _“Don’t worry about it,”_ Corrin said. _“I want to be there for you. I’ll be there soon.”_

Reluctantly, Inigo hung up.

And so he faced the daunting task of getting off the couch.

* * *

 

Somehow, Inigo managed.

It hurt like hell, and he had to stop more than once, bent over at the waist and sure his legs would give out at any moment. The pain in his stomach never stopped. It hurt more with every step.

Somehow, someway, Inigo found himself outside.

The fact that his keys had been resting by the door had been nothing short of a miracle. There was no way he would have scrounged around the house to find them otherwise. He couldn’t walk out the door upright, but he at least managed to lock it behind him.

He all but collapsed in the driveway while waiting for Corrin. Every step to the door had been agony. Something deep inside his body had protested every step. Vehemently.

The early morning breeze walked a fine line between too cold and blessed relief. Inigo wanted another blanket, but the drying sweat on his forehead said he might have benefitted from cooling down too.

Time slowed to crawl as he waited for Corrin, and yet it was still a surprise when their car sped around the corner, just a bit too quickly to be safe. Normally he might have scolded them, but since the sun had yet to rise and street was completely barren, Inigo didn’t bother. He was just grateful they were here.

Corrin pulled into the driveway so sharply that Inigo briefly thought Corrin was going to run him over with their car.

Obviously, they didn’t. But for a brief moment, it had been a welcome relief.

In reality, Corrin stopped their car mere feet from Inigo, their headlights reflecting off the garage behind him. Corrin threw open the driver’s side door and hopped. They were crouched by Inigo’s side in a flash. The car engine was still running behind them.

“Inigo!” Corrin tried to catch his eyes. Inigo weakly raised his head. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

He nodded quickly and startled to struggle to his feet. Corrin swung his arm around their shoulders, which was a considerable help. They stumbled to the passenger’s side door.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Inigo mumbled. He didn’t want to speak at all. “It’s just—My stomach—I’m sorry to bother you—”

“I told you, don’t worry about that,” Corrin said. They opened the car door and helped sit Inigo inside. “You’re my future brother-in-law, Inigo. You’re as good as family.”

Inigo would have found that sentiment significantly more heartwarming if he hadn’t felt like death warmed over. He’d feel better about it later.

“Thank you,” he said, touched despite the pain. “But still, I’m sorry. If you could just drop me off…”

Corrin shut the passenger side door, effectively cutting Inigo off. They didn’t answer until they slid into the driver’s seat and placed their hands on the wheel, though Inigo noted they didn’t shut their own door.

“Absolutely not.” Corrin looked at Inigo with visible worry. “You’re unwell. There’s no way I’m just leaving you at the hospital. I’m going in with you.”

Then Corrin looked at the still dark house. Inigo knew what they were going to say before they did.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t be waking up Xander for this? He…” They glanced at Inigo nervously. “Did you have some kind of fight?”

Inigo shook his head. Some of his hair fell into his face, and he didn’t have the strength to brush it back. Every second he sat in the car seat and they didn’t move was torture.

“No. No, never. It’s just better not to bother him tonight.”

Corrin flexed their fingers on the steering wheel. “Because of tomorrow? Inigo, I know that’s important, but Xander—”

“Doesn’t need to be bothered with this right now,” Inigo said quickly. He hunched over a little further in his seat from the pain. His words were slightly stuttered. “Please, I’m sure it’s not serious. I don’t want to ruin this for him over something like—like food poisoning.”

Corrin seemed unsure. “Inigo, you look like you’re in a _lot_ of pain.”

“And I’m sure it will lessen once the doctor’s check me out,” Inigo assured them. His voice was strained. “ _Please_ , don’t wake him. I’ll take the fall later if Xander is angry. Just _please_.”

On the last word, an intense wave of nausea rolled through Inigo, accompanied by an even sharper stab of pain. Inigo gasped. Getting embarrassingly sick in Corrin’s car seemed guaranteed.

Somehow, he managed not to be sick. The nausea and pain didn’t pass, but Inigo didn’t throw up.

When he raised his head again, he wondered if he looked half as bad as he felt.

He must have, for Corrin to be looking back at him the way they were.

“Okay,” Corrin said, staring at him with wide eyes. “Let’s go to the hospital.”

They shut the door and backed out of the driveway.

* * *

 

The drive to the hospital was just as bad, if not worse, than the wait for Corrin.

The streets were almost entirely empty as they drove. He knew Corrin was trying to get there as quickly as they could, but it still felt like they hit every light on the way to the hospital. Every stop at every intersection was another minute Inigo had to sit in pain. At one point he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the window in hopes of cajoling time to move just a bit faster. Unfortunately, that move only served to worsen the nausea in his gut. Every little bump of the tires over the pavement increased tenfold. Inigo quickly opened his eyes again.

Pulling up outside the emergency room felt like a second miracle. Corrin parked as quickly as they could and then rushed to help Inigo out of his seat.

Not for the first time, Inigo was incredibly grateful to them. He made sure to tell Corrin that as they hobbled into the ER doors, but it was possible the words came out more mumbled than not. Inigo was rather distracted.

Luckily, Inigo spotted a minimal amount of patients in the ER waiting room. None of them seemed to be actively bleeding too badly either. Inigo hoped that meant he wouldn’t have to compete for the doctor’s attention too much.

Not so luckily, that was all the information he managed to take in before Corrin plopped him down into a chair. They quickly made their way over to the woman waiting behind the counter. Inigo held his stomach and focused most of his energy on breathing evenly.

Things began to blur after that, whether because of the pain or because of what happened after. Inigo couldn’t recall. Corrin came back at some point and took Inigo’s hand in their own to comfort him. Another nurse came over and asked Inigo some questions, though he couldn’t remember what they were the moment he finished speaking. She looked at his eyes and felt at his stomach and frowned a lot. He remembered that much.

After some amount of time later—minutes or an hour, during the entirety of which Inigo balanced precariously on the verge of passing out from the pain—another nurse helped him to some kind of examination room. She brought out a wheelchair and everything. Inigo remembered being both embarrassed and grateful that he didn’t have to walk.

He did remember one last thing before being whisked away. Corrin sat diligently by his side the entire time, a steadying presence. Inigo remembered asking them—begging them—not to tell Xander what was happening until later, to not to worry their brother and Inigo’s boyfriend unnecessarily.

“Please,” he remembered begging from the wheelchair, knowing every word to be ridiculous and yet unable to keep from saying them. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“ _Inigo_ ,” Corrin stressed. They looked trapped, but they squeezed his hand anyway.

Inigo felt guilty and sick.

The nurse wheeled him away.

And the rest was white.

* * *

 

The next time Inigo woke up, the room was light and he felt significantly better.

The first thing he registered was the lack of pain. His stomach still felt a little tight in some ways, like something had shifted down there, but a lot of sensation had been numbed as well. The IV in his arm probably had something to do with that, but Inigo didn’t even grimace at the sight. He was too busy appreciating how much better he felt than before.

No more stabbing pain, no more awful nausea. He felt manageably exhausted. Inigo couldn’t even bring himself to mind the strangeness of laying in a hospital bed or the sterility of the room if it meant a reprieve from the pain.

The second thing he noticed was Xander sitting in the chair next to his bedside.

Inigo’s stomach dropped.

Xander sat with his face in his hand, leaning too far on the arm of his chair like a great weight sat on his shoulders, so he didn’t immediately notice that Inigo had awoken. Inigo used this opportunity to look at the window of the hospital room.

The curtains were partially closed, but sunlight clearly shone through the unshaded portion. It was morning. How late in the morning, Inigo couldn’t be certain. There wasn’t a clock on the wall.

Panicked, he wondered if Corrin had gone and told Xander what was going on anyway. Inigo couldn’t blame them. He knew he’d been asking a lot. Still, Inigo’s heart leapt with dismay.

“Please tell me you didn’t miss your meeting,” he blurted. His voice came out a little thicker with sleep than he had expected it to.

However surprised Inigo had been to see Xander there, though, Xander was clearly more surprised to see Inigo awake. His shoulders jumped at the sound of Inigo’s voice. He whipped his hand away from his face and fixed Inigo with his gaze so quickly Inigo almost jerked back himself.

Xander grasped Inigo’s hand—his good hand, the one without the IV—so tightly that it hurt. Inigo winced. Xander loosened his grip, but he didn’t let go. He looked at Inigo with wild eyes.

“You’re awake,” he breathed.

Inigo swallowed. His throat was dry.

He tried again. “Your meeting—”

“What?” Xander’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who gives a damn about my meeting?”

Inigo blinked, taken aback for a second time. Xander’s look of disbelief didn’t waver.

“Do you realize you had surgery this morning?” Xander asked.

Well. That certainly explained some things.

Inigo subtly wiggled his toes and found them all accounted for. The only real change he could find was still the lack of pain in his stomach. If it ached at all down there, the pain was so dull in comparison to before that it didn’t register. He had no inclination to move the blanket and look for himself just yet. There were more important things to freak out about first. Such as Xander’s presence.

Still, with Xander looking at him like that and Inigo’s head still half stuffed with cotton, all he could think to say was “Oh.”

Xander squeezed his hand again. “Exactly.”

Xander’s shoulders went slack. He shut his eyes.

Like this, Inigo could see how worn out Xander looked. How tired.

He was wearing his work clothes, Inigo noted. The ones that were even nicer than his usual clothes. But instead of being pressed and stiff, Xander’s shirt looked ruffled, like he had spent longer hunched over in his chair than Inigo had initially thought.

Inigo opened his mouth, unsure of what to say, but Xander beat him to the punch.

“I thought you had gone to run some errands,” Xander said, opening his eyes again. “Or had a dance practice that I had forgotten about. I didn’t find out you were in the hospital until Corrin called.”

“After your meeting?” Inigo asked.

“What does it matter?” Xander snapped, dropping Inigo’s hand. He stood up and walked over to the window, every line in his body suddenly filled with agitation. Inigo’s lips parted in surprise.

Xander didn’t look at him as he continued. “I wish Corrin had told me _before_ the meeting. I wish _you_ had trusted me enough to wake me up last night. I would have taken you straight here. I—”

The fight drained out of him before it had really begun. Inigo bit his lip.

“I…” Xander’s fingers were curled into loose fists. His back had become a wall dividing them. “I didn’t even know you were unwell.”

He sounded defeated.

With that, a tidal wave of guilt washed over Inigo. He ached to rise up from the bed and embrace Xander from behind, but there was no way he was getting out of bed anytime soon. The fact Xander wouldn’t look at him hurt almost as much as his stomach had.

He’d known what he was doing when he told Corrin not to wake Xander that night, but now, faced with the reality of what that meant, he almost regretted his choice.

“Xander.” He couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t come up short. “I’m sorry.”

Xander turned away from the window, once again facing Inigo. The bare feet between them felt insurmountable. Inigo’s heart clenched.

Suddenly, Xander sighed.

“I should be the one saying that,” he said, voice heavy. “I’ve been too focused on myself as of late. I never meant to neglect you.”

“Neglect me?” Inigo’s eyebrows rose at the sudden shift in tone. “I’m not a potted plant, Xander. I’m a person.”

Xander shook his head. “You are one of the most important people in my life. And Corrin told me everything. I made you feel like my work was more important than your health. That has never been and will never be true. No matter the hour or the day, I would have dropped everything to make sure you were alright, Inigo.”

Of course Inigo had known that. That had been the exact reason why he’d hidden his sickness from Xander in the first place. Xander still sported lines around his eyes from the work stress of the past two weeks.

Although, Inigo noted, perhaps they were deeper now than he remembered them being the day before. Probably from finding Inigo in the hospital.

Another wave of guilt washed over Inigo. This was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid.

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Xander sent him a hard look. “I was sleeping mere feet from you, and yet you called Corrin to drive you to the hospital instead.”

Inigo winced. It did sound pretty bad out loud.

“By that point, I knew it was bad,” he corrected. “But at first I thought I had a stomachache. It didn’t seem important.” That much was true. “And then when the pain got worse and worse, it was so late that it seemed better to just… not bother you. I didn’t want to wake you if it turned out to be something small.”

Xander shook his head. “How is your health a bother to me?”

“Your work is important—”

“ _You_ are important!”

Inigo’s mouth snapped shut.

Xander crossed the room in two quick strides and scooped Inigo’s hand in his own once more. Inigo weakly squeezed back.

“Listen to me well,” Xander said, face close to Inigo’s. “If I had gotten fired this morning because I had been watching over you here instead of sitting at my desk, that would have been just fine. Your health is more important to me than anything I could ever do at any company in any lifetime.”

Inigo paused. “You didn’t really get fired, did you?”

“Stop deflecting.” Xander’s frown deepened. “I love you, Inigo. The twenty-two minute drive from work to this hospital was the most agonizing of my life. I replayed every moment from last night in my head over and over as I sat here, knowing you would be okay and still not believing it. I kept thinking about the signs I had missed because I was too caught up in my own troubles to see you were hurting. I should have known you were here sooner. I should have taken you here _myself_.”

Inigo averted his eyes but still couldn’t shake the weight of Xander’s gaze. The intensity of Xander’s voice was inescapable.

“I spent all morning thinking about how you must not realize how much I love you for you to call Corrin instead of me when you needed help most. So I need you to know now. You are more important to me than any job. Do you understand that?”

They had exchanged _I love you_ before. This was far from the first time it had been said, whether mouthed against skin during the heat of the night or said in a rush as one of them dashed out the door. They had said _I love you_ over dinner, in the car, cheekily after petty arguments, lovingly after a long day out. Inigo had meant it every time, and he knew Xander had too. There had never been any distrust between them. Inigo had never doubted their commitment to one another.

And yet, the way Xander was speaking now, as though he doubted Inigo’s trust in him—

“Xander, I _know_ ,” Inigo said, heart aching. He lifted his head again. “And I love you so much too. You have to know that. I messed up. I know I did, and I’m sorry I asked Corrin not to say anything to you until later, because that wasn’t fair to either of you. I probably wasn’t thinking straight, but that’s still no excuse. You’re important to me too, and—”

Xander kissed him. Breathless, Inigo let him. It was more of a press of lips against lips than an active kiss, but Inigo was grateful for it all the same. The few seconds Xander kept his mouth against Inigo’s felt better than any medicine.

Inigo’s eyes fluttered open when Xander pulled back. He was still trying to catch his breath when he said, “I promise this won’t happen again.”

Xander took a deep breath. A tense beat passed between them.

Then, incredibly, his hard mask broke. Inigo could have sworn Xander sported a ghost of a smile.

“I should hope not,” Xander said. “You only have one appendix, after all.”

It was in that moment Inigo realized he didn’t really know what had happened last night. Xander had mentioned surgery, but his appendix?

Seeing his questioning look, Xander answered. “Your appendix nearly ruptured while you were doing your best to suffer in silence. If you hadn’t made it here when you did, it might have burst. Luckily, the staff here managed to catch it in time. They had to perform emergency surgery early this morning, but it went off without a hitch. They said you’ll be resting at home in no time.”

The tone of his voice left no room for argument regarding the “rest” portion of his explanation. Inigo held no complaints. He couldn’t imagine hopping out of bed and dancing anytime soon, at the very least.

He knew appendix surgery was one of the more minor surgeries to be had—compared to, say, fixing a badly broken bone, at least—but it still took a lot out of a person. That explained how tired Inigo still felt even though it was probably nearing lunch by this point. Though his exhaustion also could have been chalked up to his rude awakening in the night as well.

The thought that Inigo could have been in even more trouble if he’d hesitated in calling Corrin was a scary one. What was even scarier was how he couldn’t remember most of what had happened after arriving. Surely all was right now, but Inigo didn’t like the thought that it might not have been, had he been slower.

He nodded, digesting this new information. He would probably have questions later, but Inigo was still processing what Xander had said so far. Right now Inigo was still tired, and if Xander said things were okay, they probably were.

The idea that he was now missing an organ inside him was rather strange. But apparently it had also almost killed him, so perhaps he’d feel less weird about it after a day or so.

More importantly—

“Did somebody call my mom?”

“This morning, before I found out,” Xander answered. Inigo breathed out through his nose. “She and your father are already on their way down. They’ll be here this afternoon.” His paused, eyes sliding to the blank wall. “She thanked me for being there for her son.”

 _Whoops_ , Inigo thought. Xander really was there for him, but comments like that probably didn’t help Xander’s despair over how Inigo had ended up in the hospital in the first place. Inigo tried to cover up his own guilt with a tired smile.

“She’s right,” he said. “I should thank you in advance now too, seeing as I expect to be doted on for the next few days. I normally would protest being carried to and from the car, but in this case I’ll make an exception.”

It worked. Xander’s attention turned from his own inner turmoil back to Inigo.

“I hope you foresee a lot of soup in that fantasy of yours too,” Xander said, “because that’s what you’re getting.”

Inigo made a face. Part of it was for comedic effect, but the other part was a genuine reaction to the thought of days of endless soup and Xander’s awkward fussing.

Xander huffed through his nose—less disparaging, more humorous.

“Relax. You’re not on a liquid diet just yet. You might not be feeling up to eating much until tomorrow though.”

True enough, Inigo didn’t feel particularly hungry at the moment. Still, he kept up the joke with a fake sniff. “Well, we’ll see what the doctor says about that.”

Xander nodded seriously. He began to rise from his chair. “I’ll alert the staff that you’re awake. I should have done it sooner.”

He took a step towards the door. The loss of Xander’s hand in his own felt more poignant than the literal hole that apparently now existed somewhere inside Inigo. His arms fell to the bed limply.

“Xander.”

Xander stopped, turning back to Inigo immediately.

Inigo took him in. Xander’s face was drawn and tired, like Inigo’s being here had taken more out of him than a few missed hours of sleep ever could. Inigo wanted to rub the worry lines away with his fingertips.

Despite how Inigo had been checking in on Xander almost constantly the past few days, it was now his turn to be watched over. He trusted Xander to do it without complaint too, even if Inigo still had lingering questions about how the morning had gone, how the board had reacted to his suggestions, if Xander was using a rarely used vacation day to be with Inigo instead of at work, and the like. Out of respect for Xander’s earlier frustration, however, Inigo kept them all to himself. Those questions could come later.

“I’m sorry again,” he repeated, searching for the words he really wanted to say. “I didn’t want to make yesterday about me, but it involved you too. I should have said something.”

“And I should have noticed,” Xander said. He came back around the bed and kissed Inigo’s forehead, brushing Inigo’s cheek with his thumb as he pulled away. “Rest now. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Inigo watched him go, assured that he was in good hands.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been trying to think of horror plots to write and wrote this instead. Whoops? I am a sucker for sick fic and characters trying to play off nothing is wrong when something definitely is, though. So can you blame me? (You should definitely be more communicative about how unwell you feel than Inigo is in this fic though. Self-sacrificial behavior shouldn't be glorified the way it is in media so often. But for the sake of this plot and who Inigo is as a person canonically, it is what it is here. Also, I'm not a doctor, nor have I ever had appendicitis, so while I strive to at least be somewhat accurate in my writing, don't take anything I wrote here as hard fact.)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment below or hit me up on my [tumblr!](http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com/) I get a lot of FE14 meta and fic related asks there, so feel free to browse through my "asks" or "fe14" tag for some extra stuff from me and your fellow readers that you may not see over here. Or send in a question of your own if you had one! Thanks for reading!


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